In the Eyes of Perfection
by syntax glory
Summary: AU. A vengeful Mimi has returned to Japan and she's set her sights on a certain Yamato Ishida.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Digimon is the property of Toei. That is all. 

Summary: A vengeful Mimi has returned to Japan, and she's set her sights on a certain Yamato Ishida.

* * *

**IN THE EYES OF PERFECTION  
—Prologue—**  
_by Ascendo Tuum_

She felt guilty—at least to an extent. Here she was, world famous Mimi Tachikawa, actress, singer, and model galore. She could have anyone she wanted. When she snapped her fingers, a hundred men came to fall at her feet and do whatever her heart desired. If she asked them to jump, they would ask "How high?" and jump even higher, just to please her.

So why oh why did she have to get involved with a married man?

"I'm twenty three years old. I'm at my prime and girls would kill for my body. I'm one hundred and twenty pounds on a five foot nine frame. I've got the biggest natural boobs in the industry and I've been voted 'One Hundred Most Beautiful People' six years in a row. I'm worth seven point two million a year at least, and that's minus Daddy's trust fund for me... so what am I doing with Ishida?" She moaned, sipping occasionally from her wine glass. "Or what am I thinking of wanting to be with Ishida? He's _married_ to Sora for chrissake."

Sora Takenouchi. Her best—_correction!_—ex-best friend. There were some things you just did not do to your best friend, and one of them was to take your best friend's man. But of course, what did it matter? Mimi was off in America, thousands of miles away, and Sora had Yamato all to herself. Never mind the fact that Mimi and Yamato were meant to be together, never mind that they still had a strong relationship.

Sora ruined everything in Mimi's picture-perfect life. She completely shattered the young woman's ideals of fidelity and true love. Who knew that little miss Crest of Love had it in her? Sora always seemed so nice, so caring, but it was all a facade. A very well-executed one, and Mimi had to give the girl at least some credit for her manipulative actions.

"Guess jealousy does a lot to you," Mimi chuckled ruefully. "You envied me. My skinniness, my parents' wealth, my clothes, my talents… even as I wished I could be more like you, more compassionate and tomboyish. To not wail over a little bruise or a chipped nail, to be one of the first girls picked at a game because she wasn't afraid to get hurt or dirty."

"Still Sora, that was a pretty low blow for you to take advantage of my Yama when he was upset and pretty damn emotionally vulnerable over my going to America. You knew, yet you persisted. What for? Taichi wasn't good enough for you, huh, that you had to steal _my_ man!" Her voice had risen sharply, and she had started pacing around her well-lit vanity table, which was cluttered as usual with make-up and photographs. "Yamato. That lying asshole. Miss tumbling in bed so much you had to go to Sora?" She curled her lip as she examined her reflection in the mirror.

"Look at them now. Twenty four, and oh so happily married for three years. That bitch is a fucking designer and he's a fucking astronaut. I bet she's gonna get pregnant sooner or later… Are you happy now, Yamato? You told me you always wanted to be a musician," Mimi said bitterly. "You gave up your dreams for some deceitful little whore like her? Whatever happened to us huh? WHATEVER HAPPENED?" She screamed out angrily, to a silent and unresponsive apartment, as she recalled his pathetic break-up email he had sent only a year and a half after she left Odaiba.

_Dear Mimi._

_I'm sorry. This isn't working out.  
I'll still love you,_

_Yamato._

That brief message had her crying for weeks, months. What had gone wrong? She talked to him at least four times a week on the phone, video-messaged him every night and sent loving emails and gifts whenever she had the chance. Did he think her too clingy, too American now, that he had to go and dump her like that without any explanation whatsoever? And then to find out from Yolei months later that her pathetic excuse of a best friend was now creeping around with _her_ man? It was just unbelievably wrong.

The only good thing that had come from that wretched affair was the new sense of purpose Mimi discovered. She was determined before, but now, it was like she was all lit up. Dead ends fell away, and her agent Janelle Willis began showering her with calls about new assignments. It wasn't long before Mimi began rising up in the modeling world. First she had started out in some obscure jewelry campaign, then a Neutrogena clear skin commercial, then a Macys catalog, then a perfume advertisement, then a "Hot New Faces" Vogue photo shoot, and then finally—Mimi's Holy Grail—the catwalk. What made it all the more glamorous was that she had accomplished it all by the age of eighteen. She strutted and sauntered with the best of them, sexy girls like Gisele Bundchen and Karolina Kurkova, and her dormant catty temper was more notorious than that of Naomi Campbell's when provoked.

Mimi didn't stick solely with modeling though. No, she wanted to continue onto bigger and better things, have her face plastered everywhere. It wasn't long before she had a lucky break with a talent scout who happened to hear her sing as a make-up artist did her nails before a celebrated Gucci show. Singing became her lily pad before she launched onto the acting world.

In only a matter of three years, Mimi became one of the top stars in the three industries. She made people cry, laugh and worry in her award-winning movies. Her Grammy-nominated songs let people connect with her, never mind the fact she was divine and they were just mere mortals. Oh, she was the apple of everyone's eye, as she made her way down the runway in the newest styles with the photographers shooting away. Janelle's phone would ring off the hook; everyone wanted a piece of Mimi Tachikawa because she was _hot hot hot!_

Mimi and her agent Janelle were smart too, declining contracts for things they felt did not have enough potential to fully showcase Mimi's abilities. Who wanted to star in a B-movie about a great romance amidst an alien invasion? Who wanted to sing bubblegum pop songs in their twenties, when there were plenty of teenaged girls singing it? Who wanted to model clothes that screamed "Last season desperation!"? Definitely not Mimi, and Janelle made sure to select only the best. In thanks to Janelle, Mimi scored a multitude of fantastic contracts, among them—Maybelline deal in the US, the highly spoken of Shiseido deal in the Asias, Gucci, Chloe and more. She was everywhere, and she loved it.

In short—Mimi was perfect, flawless and blessed with everything. Everyone thought she had the best of lives; what with homes all around the world, an endless flow of cash, enough jewels to outshine the sun and plenty of eligible men to grace her slender arm. But of course no one wants to know about a star's dirty laundry, about baggage that could taint the concept of excellence. Save for tabloid reporters and readers, no one wanted to dig up dirt on this divine woman. No matter what, Mimi Tachikawa was the living embodiment of perfection.

Of course no matter how rich or famous one is, one can't have everything she wants. This applied quite well to the goddess, and she had set her amber eyes on none other than the unattainable Yamato Ishida, with his wedding ring on his left ring finger and the woman attached to his arm.

Oh how she wanted him, with his golden hair and piercing blue eyes! Her attraction wasn't just towards his well-sculpted body, but to him, the way he murmured sweet things in her ear and was always there for her. It was she who had drawn him out of his self-imposed shell. She took the time to coax him out into the world, to show him all there was to appreciate. It was justifiable that Mimi wanted him all to herself. She didn't like to share, but for Yamato, some things were worth sacrificing. Including, _especially _including, a rocky relationship with an ex-best friend.

Forget sincerity.

Embrace treachery.

It didn't matter to her what it would take to bring Yamato back into her clutches. Her sense of ethics was gone. Sora had shown her what good morals did in real life. Besides, Mimi had been groomed in industries where no one batted an eye at exaggerating, lying or doing whatever they could to get to the top. Oh no, she didn't and would never sleep her way up the ranks, but Mimi knew the benefits of gossip, fibs and exploitation. She was not going to fight Sora hands down for Yamato. She was prepared to fight dirty and fight hard. In fact, she wanted it to become a blown-out affair.

"Let the media have their circus, I just want my Yamato," she said aloud, as if the air around her was listening and acting the witness to her statements.

Mimi smirked. She also had several advantages against that now dumpy bitch.

After all, she had been his first love, as he had been hers; and if there was something to be known about first loves, it was that they were unforgettable. "He won't forget me. He'll remember how good we were together, how good we'll always be together," she murmured coolly.

"No man can claim appearance is not important. I don't think it'd be too hard for Yamato to decide who's the better looking, you fat whore." She stretched her lithe body as she padded into her bedroom.

"Yamato was _mine_, Sora. You took him away from me. Now it's only right I come back to reclaim what is mine and mine alone."

After all, Mimi didn't come back to her penthouse apartment in Tokyo, Japan just to do the ludicrous Shiseido make-up campaign. She came back to get what she had rightfully deserved all along.

_elsewhere..._

Somewhere in Odaiba, a person stirred in his sleep. Something was coming up. It was inevitable, had been inevitable for a long time coming. There was nothing he could do but wait and see what the coming storm would blow in. He had a bad feeling it wasn't going to be something good. Closing his eyes, he returned to his fitful sleep.

* * *

So what do you think? Continue or let die in my hard drive? I'd love to hear from you guys, praise and criticism alike. 


	2. Whispers

Disclaimer: Digimon is the property of Toei. That is all.

Summary: A vengeful Mimi has returned to Japan, and she's set her sights on a certain Yamato Ishida.

* * *

**IN THE EYES OF PERFECTION  
—Chapter One: Whispers—**  
_by Ascendo Tuum_

Word was spreading fast among the Shiseido personnel about the return of one of Japan's native models. Groups of young women loitered about in the halls, gossiping about why the model had left and why she was returning. It was hard to believe that after nearly a decade, she was coming back, but it was unbelievable in a good way.

The Princess was coming home, and though not all knew of her identity, they whispered in droves regardless. She was beautiful, she was ugly, she was natural, she was plastic, she was short, she was tall, she was pale, she was tan--conflicting rumors swirled in the atmosphere. Despite the contradictions, it was generally agreed that this mysterious Princess would be welcomed with the utmost of sincerity and love. Whatever she wanted, she would get.

"Oh I'm so happy," one of them sighed. "It's too good to be true, but it's true!"

"She's just a model, what's the big deal?" This came from an intern who had only recently joined the company and knew next to nothing about the fashion and cosmetic industry. Her uneducated words were like heresy.

"Just a model?" Another woman practically shrieked in horror, her thin eyebrows two round arches on her face. "She's the best of the best! She's one of the first Asian models who made it big!"

The same ignorant intern stared. "Is it just me, or are all of you on crack or something... you act like she's a goddess."

"Oh but she is, she is! She commands, and they listen. There's no more taking advantage of her, no, there isn't. Treat her bad, there's plenty others on their knees waiting for her to grace their campaigns."

"And just who is this?"

"Mimi Tachikawa!" Five women chimed simultaneously, and then giggled at the realization.

Finally the intern began to show signs of recognition. "Oh my, are you serious? Tachikawa's coming back?"

"Yes, and to start off, she's our new face for our Crystal Shine campaign!"

All the employees sighed with delight, unable to wait for the return of one of their own.

* * *

All the fame had gone to her heard, swelling into a monstrous superiority complex. With her on the verge to break through into haute couture, Sora wasted no time with compassion, a quality that would take her nowhere. She emerged with cut-throat tactics, willing to dump inept assistants as soon as they made a mistake, regardless of how much experience they had. She did not believe in surrounding herself with inferiors, thinking that inferiority was contagious. 

Hard to believe that only years ago, Sora Takenouchi had been a sweet loving girl. This Sora was no lover, she was ruthless and went after what she wanted with endless zeal. And who'd have thought it, that tomboyish Sora would become a fashion designer, of all career choices? Even her own family thought she would've become an athlete, perhaps a soccer or tennis player. And if not a career in sports, then as a florist, following in her mother's footsteps. A fashion designer seemed the most unlikeliest job, but here she was.

Sora's introduction into the fashion world had been most opportune, when she met a friend at a cafe. What had originally been a lunch meeting turned into an hours long conversation, with the friend asking about a dress to wear for her mother's birthday. Sora had drawn an idea for a dress on a napkin, and the friend was impressed, and declared that she should be a designer. Initially, Sora took the comment as flattery, but after a few months, decided to take her friend up on the compliment. A career in sports was too grueling, and unless she became famous and broke a record, retirement would be painful and poor. Her boyfriend Yamato agreed, thinking that a less physically-traumatizing job would be best, despite the fact that he was an astronaut and worked his ass off every day to stay in shape.

Sora smiled at the memories as she climbed into a cozy chair with a sketchpad and a pencil. She was thinking of new designs for the upcoming summer fashion show in Tokyo in four months, believing it to be her breakthrough.

"Designing for department stores is so limiting and boring now. Once I make it onto the couture scene, I'll have my own line that isn't so pop-tartish. Hmm and flagship stores in Tokyo, Paris and London..."

She hugged the book to her chest, envisioning people swooning en masse for her creations.

"Ah, I should tell my assistant to make a list of potential models. Only the best for my designs."

Sora got up, and went over to the window. It was late in the afternoon, probably around four to five o'clock. She had had a late lunch, her assistant offering a mushy uninspiring bento box, only an hour or so ago. Atleast the tea had more than made up for the lacking food. Craning her neck, she watched the people below, walking or running. They were alone, they were with friends, with parents, they were all her potential customers.

Her cell phone trilled, and Sora set down her sketchpad onto the chair. Flipping open the phone, she tucked the earpiece into her left ear.

"Hello, this is Sora."

"Hey Sora, it's Yamato."

"Oh hello Yama-chan. What happened?"

"Nothing happened. I just want to know if you want to go out for dinner later. I'm getting out of work early."

"I just had lunch--"

"I made reservations already, Sora. C'mon, you've been cooped up in your studio for several weeks now. You won't be falling behind, taking one night off for dinner. You need a break hon."

Sora pursed her lips in consideration. "Oh alright Yama-chan, you always get me anyway. When?"

"I'll pick you up in three hours at eight okay?"

"Alright. Bye Yama-chan."

"Goodbye Sora. Love you."

Removing her earpiece, Sora then screamed down the hallway. "Anna! Anna!"

A young black-haired woman came running in. She was clad in denim overalls and a blue t-shirt. "Yes Miss Takenouchi?"

"Bring me a nice dress and some shoes, I'm going out for dinner in a few hours. I trust your judgment," she said, raising her eyebrow at her assistant's disheveled appearance.

Anna's mouth closed and opened like a fish. She had only been working as an intern/assistant for Sora for a month, and Sora had often berated her for her sense of style. And now, she was asking her to pick something from the sample closet downstairs? This was unbelievable! "Yes Miss Takenouchi. I'll be right back!"

"Take your time, but not too long. I'll be expecting it in an hour and a half."

"Thank you miss," Anna breathed and ran out the room.

Sora smiled wrly. The girl worshipped her. No surprise too, considering how she was one of the most popular emerging designers. Sooner or later, she'd be designing couture, not department store stock. With a grin, she sat back down. Her dreams were coming true.

She had Yamato tied to her little pinky, she had a nice cushy job, she had a nice apartment and a house--

"I don't want kids." She decided out of nowhere. Children would only take up her precious time, and Yamato came home tired every night. She really didn't think it fitting that someone of her status be forced to change diapers. And having a maid or nanny was too dangerous--tabloids were willing to pay large sums for household gossip.

She stood up and closed her book. Tucking the pencil into the spiral, she sashayed out of the room, her knee-length skirt swimming about her legs.

_elsewhere..._

Mimi strolled down the sidewalk, her expressive eyes hidden behind a pair of wraparound sunglasses. Winter was over, and the weather was slowly beginning to brighten up. She smiled, anticipating the advent of the spring season. She loved spring because it was the perfect season not only in terms of weather but also in beauty. In a couple of weeks, flowers would blossom and once stark naked trees would grow verdant leaves. And of course, she could wear clothes in bright shades, like orange or green. She was tiring of wearing mostly neutral clothes in colors like black and white.

Reinforcing her grip on her Louis Vuitton handbag, she stepped into a store. Bright lights assailed her, and she blinked repeatedly, her eyes adjusting to the light. Almost instantly, a saleswoman came up to her.

"May I help you?" The thirtyish-year-old woman asked blandly, her eyes skimming over this customer. She seemed like the noveau rich, someone attempting to claw her way into the ranks. A complete wannabe socialite.

Mimi could hear the smugness dripping from the woman's voice and she smirked. She could milk this woman's bitchiness to her advantage, make a scene, get something for free even. It wasn't like she couldn't afford it. She just believed in quid pro quo, this for that. A bitch for a bitch. The clerk wanted to be arrogant? So be it.

"I'm actually thinking of getting some new shoes. For the coming spring," she said calmly.

"Any particular feature?"

"Oh... maybe a pair of espadrilles, and definitely some stilettos. I want some day sandals and evening heels. You are carrying the new lines, are you not?"

The woman gave her a once-over again. She had an impeccable sense of fashion, wearing a long gray trenchcoat with khaki slacks and brown stiletto boots. Her handbag's metal clasps shone in the light, and her shades alone screamed "expensive." As tasteful as she was, she was probably one of those people who shoved their way into the social scene. "Possibly. Follow me."

Mimi kept in step with the clerk, laughing inside at how the woman's nostrils flared. She probably thought her to be some desperate socialite. Soon they reached the back of the store, where there was a gallery of shoes. Mimi sat down upon a cushioned white seat. "Do you have any suggestions?"

The saleswoman smiled evilly. "Why yes I do," she said happily. She went over to a pair ofvivid orange espadrilles, with lemon yellow straps that wrapped around the ankle. These shoes had been hard to sell, with only two pairs sold in the last month. No self-respecting woman wanted to be caught in such awkward looking shoes that emphasized how big her feet looked.

Mimi crinkled her nose. "Those are hideous. Have you even sold a single pair of those shoes? Most likely not--they add to the overall length of a woman's feet. No one wants to wear shoes that make her feet look big. Are you trying to sell these to me, because you think I am some fashionista-wannabe?" She kept her voice level, wanting to draw out the scene. It was rather a shame that there were not much shoppers inside. "Dear, I wonder how you were hired, when you obviously have such bad taste to offer me such hideous shoes."

"Excuse me?" The clerk began in an incredulous tone.

"You're excused. I want someone else to help me."

"You cannot just barge in here and order me about!" The woman almost shrieked, enraged at this snippy shopper's attitude.

Mimi laughed, her voice sounding like sharp crystal shards. "Really, I was just looking to buy some nice shoes, and here you are, trying to dupe me into buying possibly the most ugliest shoes in the world. I don't mean to sound so arrogant, but do you know who I am?"

"A nobody," the clerk hissed angrily, wanting so dearly to throw the shoe at the woman's head.

"Does the name Mimi Tachikawa ring a bell?" Mimi watched the woman's facial expression change from one of anger to shock to anxiety. Her face turned a brilliant shade of red as her mouth opened and closed. "I thought so. Now would you please show me a nice pair of espadrilles?"

"Right away," she babbled, as she returned the other shoes to the shelf. She walked over to the other wall, and pulled out a pair of espadrilles that had a cork bottom and striped fabric of blue and green on white.

"Much better," Mimi nodded as she slipped her four-inch-boots off and slid her dainty feet into the shoes. Setting her handbag down on the sofa, Mimi walked several paces until she stopped in front of a mirror. She arranged her feet so that the shoes were highlighted, and then struck a pose. "I want this pair. Normally I would have then asked to see some stilettos, but considering your attitude, I think I'll take myself elsewhere."

The saleswoman said nothing, her cheeks burning a bright red. "Yes of course miss. Please go to the register, and your purchase will be brought out to you."

Mimi nodded and went over. She hated it when people made assumptions about who she was, just because they didn't know her. She didn't want to paint herself as a bitchy person, but when push came to shove, what could she do?

Besides, she had more important goals in mind. One, command all of Japan's attention. And two, regain Yamato's heart.

* * *

Author's Notes: Something about this chapter feels wrong. Then again, maybe it's because I wrote it in bits and pieces throughout the past few weeks, making it choppy. I'm surprised it's so hard to write. I have all these ideas in mind, but I never thought they'd be so hard to express on keyboard. 


	3. Encounter

Disclaimer: Digimon is the property of Toei. That is all. 

Summary: Mimi's come back to Japan, and she's set her sights on a certain Yamato Ishida.

* * *

**IN THE EYES OF PERFECTION  
—Chapter Two: Encounter—**  
_By Ascendo Tuum_

Miko Hidaka squealed in delight as she skimmed the email. As usual, her boss Toshio Tanaka had to drone on and on about the most uninteresting topics such as getting a new instant tea machine before finally stating in one sentence at the end the "real message." She couldn't believe it though, it had to be just part of the rumors that had been swirling for awhile, but if her boss was going to mention it, then it had to be true. "This is fabulous! We're definitely going to have to push the Public Affairs Office to go through with everything!"

Her twenty-nine-year-old co-worker, the uptight and snippy Sachiko Sato, wandered over with an irritable look on her face. "What's so great that you have to be giggling like a six-year-old, Miko?"

"You won't believe it!" Miko trilled happily. "The greatest thing to happen in Japan since... well um... you get the point!"

"And what is this great thing?" Sachiko asked sardonically. "That new machine in the workers' lounge? The one that spits out ten different kinds of tea? Or perhaps is it the new water fountain installed down the hallway? Or maybe it's those new silk flowers in the ladies' room?"

Miko waved her over eagerly from her seat at the cubicle, choosing to ignore her sarcasm. "Come! Look! Read it and believe it!"

Sachiko glanced disdainfully at the rumpled dress suit her co-worker wore, and noted the messy bun that contained perhaps eighty percent of Miko's hair, leaving the remaining strands to fly up all over the bun. "I still don't understand how you got this job. College graduate degree and all, look at you! Have you no respect for your position that you skip into work each day looking like you just woke up?"

"Oh shut it, Sachi-kun! Come on! Read the email! It's not going to recite itself for you."

"Sachi-kun?" Sachiko mumbled in shock, her horn-rimmed glasses falling down the bridge of her nose. "What did you just call me? Am I imagining it, or did you really just call me Sachi-kun?"

"Will you just look at the freaking email!" Miko almost screamed, her hands gesticulating wildly towards the brightly lit computer screen. "Here I am, trying to tell you about the greatest thing that has happened to Japan, and you're just being the edgy bitch you are! Like always!"

Surprised at the outburst and "bitch" comment from her normally meek and quiet co-worker, Sachiko hurriedly went over to Miko's side and began reading near the end of the email. As she read it, her face went through a series of convulsions, as Miko duly noted with a snigger. "Kami-sama! You're kidding me!" The woman said at last, not even bothering to address the fact that Miko had just insulted a woman one year her senior.

"I thought so too, but the boss never jokes around," Miko sighed happily, her eyes aglow with pure joy.

"It is too good to be true," Sachiko uttered. "Too good. I thought she would remain forever in America."

Miko nodded along, her eyes skittering across the front wall of her cubicle, which was cluttered with photographs of family and friends. "Hey doesn't your roommate Mitsu or something like that work at Shiseido?" Sachiko nodded slowly, unsure of what the younger woman was getting at. "Well call her up! Ask her if it's true, ask her if Tachikawa-sama is really coming back!"

"Tachikawa-sama? You act as if the model is a goddess," Sachiko remarked, as she examined her neatly-pressed sleeves for wrinkles. "Is she your role model or something?"

Miko grinned. "But of course! Think about it, she left her hometown to move to a totally new country and within a few years, she's all over the place! Movies, music, modeling—that Mimi girl can really do anything! I bet she's worth millions and has a hot boyfriend!"

Sachiko rolled her eyes as she chewed at her lip thoughtfully. "Considering how Tanaka-san mentioned Tachikawa in her email, I have a feeling we will be her public relations firm. Regardless of whoever her agent sends to deal with affairs, no one can beat Tanaka and his dedicated group of representatives!"

"Are you serious? Really? Oh my god, I would do anything to be assigned to her!" Miko nearly shrieked as she began jumping up and down, despite her three-inch pumps.

"Whoa are you okay Miko?" A new voice asked in surprise.

Sachiko whirled around and instantly addressed the newcomer. "Konnichiwa Ishida-san! How are you?"

Yamato Ishida shrugged, a few strands of his golden-blonde hair falling across his face. "Good, I suppose. And please, call me Yamato, would you Sachiko? What's with Miko today?" Even though he had no need for a public relations service, Sora had insisted he have one, and so here he was.

"She's just excited," Sachiko answered slowly, wondering how on earth the young woman had been accepted into this prestigious company. It was amazing how the girl hadn't ruined anybody yet, what with her impulsiveness and tendency to overreact. "Miko, calm down before Tanaka-san hears your stomping. Remember, he's on the floor below us."

Miko finally stopped jumping out of exertion, rather than respect to the fact that her boss was sitting at his high and mighty chair on the floor below hers. Her face was flushed red, and her hair was now free of its confines and in a big frizzy mess. "Whooo. I am so happy!" She began dancing around, dragging first an unwilling Sachiko before trying to cajole her client into a brief waltz around the room. Seeing their surprised faces, she slowed to a stop and chuckled as she smoothed her pencil skirt down. "Hehehe sorry, it's just that this is the GREATEST THING!"

"What is?" Yamato asked with a laugh, as he slung his guitar case onto his other shoulder. "You won the lottery? That big one?"

"No, I wish but this is just as good! Guess who's coming back to Japan!"

"Mimi Tachikawa," Sachiko replied quickly.

Miko stuck her tongue out at Sachiko. "Oh you're no fun! You always have to be a wet blanket and ruin this and that! Grr Sachiko, could you just relax for once?"

"This isn't a social club, this is a workplace. We are here to work, not play!" The other woman fired back.

"Hey Yama-kun, you okay?" Miko suddenly asked. The man had this odd look on his face like he had been hit in the side with a sack of bricks. "You look like you've been hit in the side with a sack of bricks," she added cheerfully as her co-worker fired a dirty look at her.

Yamato shook his head. "No, I was just ah... thinking. Yes, thinking."

"About Mimi Tachikawa right? Of course a guy like you must think her sexy and beautiful! After all, she's been voted 'One Hundred Most Beautiful People' six years in a row! That's got to count for something, at the very least."

"Miko," Sachiko began exasperatedly, "he's married."

"So what? Even though I have a boyfriend, I still look at other guys and think they're cute or handsome. What's wrong with just acknowledging someone's looks? It's not like you're cheating on anybody."

"Miko, forget it. Yamato, what can I do for you?" Sachiko asked, placing much emphasis on the "I."

"Oh I was in the neighborhood so I thought I'd drop in and see how you ladies were doing. I brought some pastry," he said, holding out a large shopping bag.

"Arigato Yamato!" Sachiko exclaimed. The man was always so generous, bringing them gifts and little knickknacks on holidays and whenever he came by. "You need not be so generous."

"Yeah, because Sachiko's afraid she'll become fat after eating one too many cookies. Then the whole world will come down crashing upon her head because she's not a size four anymore," Miko snorted as she fixed her hair. Her co-worker gave her yet another dirty look but did not make a retort.

Yamato laughed. "I'm surprised you two are partners. Such animosity!" He said dramatically, placing a hand over where his heart would be. "Please don't fight anymore, I don't know what I'd do without my power duo!"

"You flatter us," Sachiko and Miko chimed in simultaneously and then each drew back from the other as they flushed.

A knock sounded on the closed door. With a flourish, Sachiko strode over to open it and then gasped.

"Good morning," a musical voice chirped.

"W-why good morning Tachikawa-san," Sachiko responded as she bowed in return.

Her coworker's ears pricked up. "Hello Mimi!" Seeing the dirty look on Sachiko's face, Miko grinned apologetically. "Is it okay if I call you that?"

The chestnut haired woman smiled as she removed her sunglasses. "If you so wish. I much prefer Mimi anyway, it's so much less formal. I stopped by because I am an interested client and would like to be represented as soon as possible."

"Anything for you, just give me a few minutes while I get all the paperwork… would you like some tea?" Miko threw over her shoulder as she dug around for a new file.

"Please have a seat," Sachiko offered, gesturing at a row of plush seats. "It wouldn't do for you to stand on such uncomfortable shoes all day!"

"Don't worry," Mimi laughed as she set down her numerous bags, "I'm used to it. After we get the paperwork done, I'd like to discuss a few things—"

"Oh Mimi, you have got to meet somebody!" Miko said as she retrieved a pen from her drawer. "You two would probably hit it off right away!"

Yamato, who had been carefully hiding in the shadows of a nearby storage room, stiffened. "Shit," he said quietly. "Shit." He looked around for a means of escape but found none. He was too high up to attempt an escape through the windows, and besides, he doubted they'd open easily. What was he going to do? He really didn't want to meet Mimi, not now, not _ever_ actually.

Then Miko strode in to the small room he was cowering in, with an undeterminable glint in her eyes. "Yamato, you'll never believe who's here!" She gushed.

"I heard, from the door," he said feebly, trying to send the message that he did not want to be out there. However Miko was either oblivious to his implicit pleading or determined to introduce him, because next thing he knew, he was being dragged by the scuff of his neck. Where this woman found such strength he didn't know, but within seconds he found himself brushing off his clothes as he awkwardly straightened—

—to meet the cool collected gaze of Mimi Tachikawa. His ex-girlfriend. The girl he'd promise to be with forever. The woman he left for Sora.

"Why hello Yamato Ishida. Fancy seeing you here… after all these years."


	4. Heat

Disclaimer: Digimon is the property of Toei. That is all.

Summary: Mimi's come back to Japan, and she's set her sights on a certain Yamato Ishida.

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IN THE EYES OF PERFECTION  
—Chapter Three: Heat—  
**_By Ascendo Tuum_

Mimi gazed levelly at him, her crystalline amber eyes betraying no hint of emotion. If anything, Yamato thought he saw a bit of arrogance in them. He felt his insides churn, churn with something related to disappointment or even disgust. It seemed as if everyone had suddenly gone on an ego trip. Everyone had changed, for the worst. Even himself. 

"H-Hello Mimi." He said at last, attempting his best to sound composed. He didn't want her to know what her presence did to him; the shivers tingling along his stiffened spine, the little butterflies fluttering furiously in his stomach.

"It's been a _very_ long time," she remarked. "Years. I won't even bother to give a figure."

Yamato nodded docilely. Even after all these years, he knew her. She wasn't the type to be irate, ranting and gnashing teeth and throwing things around. No. When Mimi Tachikawa was angry, she was a cold simmering angry. She did not throw tantrums, but rather sharp biting remarks that dug in and hurt. "It has."

"So how are you? How are things with that woman; what's her name again?"

"Sora Takenouchi, you mean?" Miko offered, not noticing the thick tension surrounding the two celebrities.

"Ah yes, Sora. Your wife?" The words rolled off Mimi's tongue like slick gumdrops. "How is she?"

Yamato focused his eyes on Mimi's forehead, trying to stay cool. "We're good," he said feebly. Where was the cocky Yamato when you needed him to surface? He really couldn't stand how his ex-girlfriend was making him out to be some frightened and dumb man. "What about you?" He countered, wanting to even the playing field.

"I've been very well," she smiled radiantly. "In fact, I just came to Japan a few days ago. Isahara Relations Firm will be handling my public affairs while I'm here."

"Oh, what a coincidence! Yamato here is also one of our clients," Miko said. "It would be such an honor to represent you as well!"

Mimi smiled slowly. "How interesting." She figured Yamato would be incensed, especially considering the way she had spoken to him like some fool. It didn't matter though. She wanted a challenge. It was too easy to just draw him in to her. A few coquettish glances, a few choice words and Yamato was ripe for her plucking. She wanted him to be turned off, and yet turned on at the same time to her. She wanted him to be confused, to feel insulted, to suffer mental agony, to go through periods of frustration. She didn't want to be easy, because Mimi was not easy. Not before, not ever. "We'll be seeing a lot more of each other, won't we?"

"Yes, we probably will." He wondered where she was getting at. Finally his inhibitions began to fall away, and the dormant rage inside slowly began to emerge. He did not like the sneering "I'm so much better than you are and I can't be bothered to be spoken to" tone that this brunette was giving him. Forget the storied history. This was the present, and it was now that mattered. Not something that happened years ago.

"What have you been doing lately? I haven't heard any news about your band in years. Surely the great Yamato wouldn't have killed off his band. At least not the Yamato I remember..." She smirked, knowing she had hit a tender spot.

Yamato grimaced. She sure knew how to hit below the belt, and it frightenened him that she seemed to have no regrets about it. "Actually the disbanding was mutual. Sora and I wanted to focus on more worldly things."

"Like exploring space?"

"Exactly."

"Must be fun, being an astronaut." Mimi said childishly, playing with locks of her hair.

He shrugged. "You must be having a fabulous time strutting around on catwalks, being called beautiful wherever you go, posing for shoots, the like."

"You seem quite informed about the fashion world," she commented blithely. "I didn't think you the type."

"Sora's a designer. You pick up things." He said, with a little bite in his tone.

Mimi pushed back stray tendrils of her voluminous hair, adjusting the manner in which her sunglasses rested upon the top of her head. "I haven't heard of her. What is she doing, common department store stock in Odaiba?"

"She'll be moving up to a private line soon," he said coldly. How dare she just come sauntering in, and poke at Sora and him? He didn't understand her game. Was her head so up in the clouds that she now had fun taunting people? The comments about his band had stung hard, and Mimi knew that. He knew she knew how much his music meant to him. Hell, he was willing to bet his guitar that she knew all the dirt on his wife and him. No way a model like her would be living under a rock, unaware of current events. What was she playing at? "Surely you would know. She's been the talk of town for several months now."

"Has she?" Mimi examined her fingernails. "I wasn't aware of that. You know, flying around the world really is exhausting. Just a week ago I was in Milan, and then I had to go back to LA, and now here I am in Tokyo. All the frequent flyer miles... my parents are thrilled that they can go on vacations once a month!"

"How fortunate and well-off they are. My parents haven't quit their jobs to live off my salary. Must be a model thing, when you're getting paid to look pretty."

"Everyone thinks models have it easy. You have no idea how hard it is, out there, with the bloody competition. Once you hit the big three-oh, you're done. No one wants to touch you anymore, and if you spent all your twenties throwing your money away on drugs and shit, you're fucked. Simple as that." She retorted angrily. "Besides my father would never quit his job even if it meant a more relaxed lifestyle. He has pride. Unlike some people who ah, you know, so _willingly_ give up their dreams for the most ridiculous reasons.. A Tachikawa does not quit even when offered a free ride. And as for my mother, she has always been the type to stay at home. She has no qualms about accepting my money, after all, it is only right I comfortably support my parents in their older age."

"I never suggested that I turned my back on my family Mimi, and don't you dare give me that smug look." He said coldly. "You know, right now, you make me sick. Standing here, acting like you own the world. Tch. What happened to you Mimi? What happened to the girl who wanted to become a star and help kids? You're just a snobby airhead. Stop giving me that damn smirk!"

"Yamato please, calm down. I never knew you could have such a temper!" She remarked, placing a hand to her cheek in mock surprise.

He glared at her. "Whatever Mimi. It was great seeing you. Now goodbye. I have to meet my lovely wife Sora for dinner," he said flatly. With that, he stormed off. She really did have some nerve.

Mimi turned to Miko and asked innocently, "Is he always like this?"

Miko shook her head. She didn't quite understand the underlying tension between her two clients, but assumed the overall conversation to be something of a shallow spat. "No, I don't know what's quite gotten into him. Perhaps it's the weather."

"Or bad luck," Sachiko offered, and was rewarded with Miko rolling her eyes.

"Oh hush miss superstitious. I have never met a person as silly as you are... fearing black cats walking under ladders, anything with the nubmer thirteen... hey Mimi, you're our thirteenth client!" Miko suddenly exclaimed. Her co-worker's eyes bugged and she fainted against her desk. "Don't mind her," she said off-handedly. "Would you like something to drink?"


	5. Interrupted

Disclaimer: Digimon is the property of Toei. That is all.

Summary: Mimi's come back to Japan, and she's set her sights on a certain Yamato Ishida.

Author's Note: I will probably revamp chapters... mash them together somehow later on. And I've delved a bit more into the characters... trying to develop them a little more so they're not obvious villains or whatever. Like they all have sides to them. You know, it's not fun to have characters who are all boring and bitchy. Yeah. Something like that. **

* * *

**

**IN THE EYES OF PERFECTION  
—Chapter Four: Interrupted—  
**_By Ascendo Tuum_

"What's eating you tonight?" Sora asked, watching him as she twirled slippery strands of spaghetti round a fork. The two were in _La Piccola Cucina_, a cozy and homely Italian restaurant downtown, known for its hearty pasta and appetizers.

Yamato looked up, startled like a deer in headlights, before he shook it off. "Oh. Nothing. Nothing at all," he added for emphasis, fumbling with his cutlery.

She laughed, a short mirthless laugh. "Really? You've been eying the meatballs like they've gone and killed Takeru."

"It's nothing," he repeated irritably in a tone that suggested the conversation was to come to an end now.

She shrugged at last. "Whatever." Sipping her wine, she then locked gazes with her husband's cobalt blue eyes. "Yama-chan, you know you can tell me anything. I promise I won't bite." He chuckled in response but did not offer much more conversation. "Yama-chan, I _know_ you. I know everything about you. I know when you're happy, when you're sad, hell I even know when you're horny—"

He snorted, and said shortly, "That's not very difficult to do."

"Yamato! Do you not trust me? Christ, what's wrong with you?"

"I would tell you if there was something to tell you," he answered testily. "There isn't. I've tried to tell you that but you won't listen. Have some faith in me." _Like you'd really want to know that Mimi came back... rain on your parade worse than mine. I'm doing you a favor. Just shut up and eat, I already had enough of a bad day._ He stabbed his fork into a meatball, and began chewing angrily.

"Alright alright, I won't push it," Sora conceded at last, though she would not forget. She decided to ask him about it again later. No point in ruining dinner, she'd lose her appetite and the pasta alfredo was just too good to not eat and ask to doggybag. Some foods were never meant to be eaten as leftovers, and the pasta was one of them, at least at this particular restaurant anyway,

"Good. I was just about to say 'end of discussion' anyway." The couple ate in silence, the tension palpable in the candlelit atmosphere about them.

Sora did not like how furtive her husband was acting, it was all very suspicious and she did not like to be left in the dark about things. She ate her pasta, chewing thoughtfully, running scenarios in her mind that would suggest clues as to Yamato's brusque behavior tonight. She couldn't think of anything. JNSA, Japanese National Space Association, had been doing quite well in their recent missions. So there wouldn't be anything wrong at work. Their marriage was fine. Maybe it wasn't picture-perfect, but not a lot of things were picture-perfect in life so that didn't count. So what could be bothering him?

A tuxedo-clad waiter came by and discreetly refilled her glass with the remaining wine.

Minutes ticked by, and they continued to eat. At last, Yamato gave into the silence as he pushed away his cleared plate. "Dessert?"

"Sure, why not." She waved over a waiter, and he promptly handed her the dessert menus. Sora skimmed it over, mulling over the contents. "The gelato sounds good."

"I think I'll get a cup of cappucino and a slice of tiramisu."

"You won't be able to sleep. Even a little caffeine keeps you up."

"I don't have work tomorrow," he reminded her.

"Still, it's not good to disrupt your sleeping schedule."

"Sora, you're not my mother. I'm quite capable of taking care of myself. And if you're concerned about health, look at you. You've been cooped up in your studio for a long time now, and you come home late each night bone-tired and just about ready to drop dead."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she asked teasingly.

His eyes flashed angrily. "Is that how highly you think of me?"

"I was kidding! God, Yamato, what's got you so tense and stressed out?" She shook her head, surprised at his bitter fury.

Yamato sighed irritably. "I said it before and I guess I'll have to say it again. It's nothing, and it will continue to remain nothing because it really _is_ nothing."

"Why don't you let me get close?"

"You speak as if I've been blowing you off for a long time. Is that how you feel?" He softened at last, covering one of her hands with his own.

"No Yamato, but I hate seeing you look so upset. Please tell me."

"It's no big deal. I'll take care of it."

"Take care of what?" Sora near slammed her fist on the table. "Stop trying to be the gentleman shielding me from all these 'horrors'. Did the doctor say you have something? Is JNSA letting you go? What is it! Let me know_ please_. Yamato, marriage is about compromise, about sharing. Please, _talk to me_."

"Sora-chan… Sora… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just don't want to bog you down with trivial issues. I know how important your work is to you right now, especially now, and I don't want you to have to deal with problems that shouldn't be there. Please, just forget it."

She stared at him, her eyes rimming with unshed tears. "I hate this Yamato. I hate your chauvinist thinking. You obviously think I'm too _weak _to handle a simple little problem, don't you?" He opened his mouth but she savagely cut him off. "You think I'm like …_Mimi_." She breathed heavily, her tears beginning to recede back into the depths as the name left an unexplainably foul taste in her mouth.

"I would never think of such a thing!" He swallowed a spoonful of his cake and sighed. "Well. Now that you mention it…" He set down his cup, wondering how to go about with this. He hadn't intended to tell her--preferably, she'd never know--but her questioning and upset expression had set the wheels in motion for a confession.

"What!"

"Mimi's back."

Sora blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. There was a sharp intake of breath. "What?" She repeated again in a quieter voice, obviously unable to comprehend what he had just said.

"She's back. Here. In Japan."

"Why?"

"I don't know. She's a model now, Sora."

Sora felt a bit of her old rivalry and long repressed feelings of jealousy rear on their heads. Her tone hardened. "I see. So she's finally put her pretty face to purpose."

"I guess."

"Is she famous? Popular? Rich?"

Yamato noted how she ignored asking him why exactly the woman was back in Japan. Instead Sora seemed to prefer to find out her status right now, perhaps to feel more superior should Mimi be some new girl trying to throw herself into everyone's campaigns and curry favors. No doubt Sora would want to have the satisfaction of having shot down Mimi. "I don't know Sora. I just saw her when I dropped by Isahara."

"Why's she there?"

"She intends to model for the upcoming shows. I'd assume she would want someone to represent her and keep her interests and reputation at heart, aside from her agent."

"What does she look like now? Same silly girl with the cotton-candy pink hair?" She asked derisively. "With the baby voice and the innocent naivete that I saw through ever since I've known her?"

"Sora, I don't know. Stop asking me about her when I obviously don't know."

"Sorry," she answered docilely and resumed eating her tri-flavored gelato.

"Can we just forget everything?"

"Yes. I would like that."

"Good." They finished their meal and then Yamato paid the waiter and left a tip. He slid an arm round her as they walked out the restaurant towards the nearby parking lot to go home.

There were a lot of unanswered questions brimming in Sora's mind and she intended to get answers.


End file.
